


Due for a Bath

by chucks_prophet



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Confessions, Friends to Lovers, Humor, M/M, Teasing, Work, Workplace Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-22 13:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22383871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: “Are you baking me into a cake, what’s going on?”Eddie rolls his eyes as he dumps the third cup of baking soda into the makeshift bath. “You wish, Hansel.”“How is this not weird for you?”“Buck, I’ve single-handedly given Christopher baths for the last four years of his life. I think I can handle this.”
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz
Comments: 7
Kudos: 284





	Due for a Bath

“Are you serious? Never?”

“I’m not trying to kickstart another drought.”

“Another drou—?” Eddie snaps his head back to the rest of the crew. “Are you guys hearing this?”

“He just doesn’t want to admit it emasculates him,” Hen chimes in from her steady demolition of leftover lasagna.

“Please,” Buck says, “emasculated by a one-man Jacuzzi and scented soap?”

“Yeah, Hen, plenty of masculine men take baths,” Eddie adds.

“I take baths.”

“Chimney, I said masculine men.”

“Ha-ha. But seriously, Buck, you have a heart condition. A hot bath would be a cost-effective way to manage your blood pressure,” suggests Chimney. “Throw some Epsom salt in there and you’re set for the night.”

“I don’t have a _heart condition_ ,” Buck snaps. “I have a blood clot in my leg. It’s hardly lethal.”

“Says the guy who passed out at Bobby and Athena’s.” Hen’s just rolling in the one-liners today. She’s gleaming with pride, too, the way her dimples curl around a smile that takes up half her face.

“I’ll admit, drinking on blood thinning medication was a slip-up.”

“Hen’s right, Buck,” Bobby supports from the kitchen, pouring himself a careful cup of espresso, “take it from an alcoholic. One drink is enough to do you in for life.”

“Thank you, D.A.R.E. Master Bobby.”

The alarm slices through the casual conversation in the station, sending the five firefighters flying. It’s so routine for them now, they just slip into their respective gear, climb into the 118 Mystery Machine and head out.

As they make the drive down, they ruminate on what they could be running into. Perhaps it’s a house fire instigated by a misplaced candle or an irresponsible chain-smoker. Or maybe it’s a mom n’ pop shop, triggered by a desperate business owner with just enough insurance money to make his late rent disappear.

Even something as small as providing emergency epinephrine to a child having an allergic reaction can be just as tolling. Especially to those 118 fighters who have kids, like Hen and Bobby and Eddie. You can even add Buck to that list. Over the last few months following Christmas, Christopher, Eddie’s son, has grown increasingly fond of calling Buck his uncle. And Buck hasn’t felt the need to correct him.

Luckily, when they arrive on the scene, there’s no anaphylaxis in sight. Or even a fire, for that matter. There is a child in distress, however. The second they step out of the truck, he’s rushing up to them with a beat red face. It’s clear he’s been crying profusely.

“Please! You have to help! We lost Asher a few days ago and now he’s stuck in the tree!”

Bobby, with the patience of a guard at Saint Peter’s Gate, bends down to the boy’s level. He can’t be more than eight, but it’s clear this is the kid’s first run-in with a true sense of panic and urgency. It briefly crosses Buck’s mind that maybe if he’d had a parental figure like Bobby in his life growing up, he wouldn’t have turned to sex… or hey, burning buildings… to cope with the pressures of life.

“Deep breath, buddy,” Bobby says, waiting until the boy does just that before grounding him with good ole Captain Nash, “what’s the situation?”

Just then, a woman sprints out the front door of the residence. “Excuse me, what’s going on? Billy, why are the ambulance here?”

Bobby, to everyone’s surprise, holds up a hand. “Ma’am, your son placed the call. He was just filling me in.” He turns his attention back to the child with a confident nod. “Go ahead, Billy.”

“M-my cat, Asher. He’s stuck in the tree. I-I just saw him climb up there and now he won’t c-come down.”

“We’ll do everything we can to get him out, son. Lucky for you, I have the best team.”

Buck and the gang nod in agreement, like it isn’t even a question.

“Eddie, rig up the ladder,” Bobby instructs. “Buck, you’re not allergic to felines, are you?”

“No, sir,” Buck responds as he follows Eddie to the back of the truck.

With careful coordination and Eddie’s steady hands, Buck ascends the ladder and dives into the thick, leafy arms of the cypress tree. At first, he can’t hear or see much except his own arms swimming in a sea of green. Then, he spots it. Or rather, it spots him, because the cat starts hopping branches.

“Hey, hey!”

That’s when Buck makes the unwise decision of lunging for its tail. Naturally, he thinks he’s going to be clawed or bitten.

What happens is much worse.

“Buck?!” Eddie calls from below. “Buck, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

With heavy shame, Buck slinks down the steps of the stairs. When he turns around, it’s clear to everyone else why—if them cupping their noses isn’t indication enough.

“It was a _skunk!_ ” Hen hoots, bursting into laughter. The rest of the team follows suit.

“Asher!” Billy yells, running up to something big and black that plops onto the grass. It’s clearly a cat. The same cat that likely chased the skunk up the tree and caused this whole mess.

Eddie reaches out to slap a hand on Buck’s back before quickly retracting the sentiment. “Looks like someone’s due for their first bath,” he says, chuckling all the way back to the station.

“Are you baking me into a cake, what’s going on?”

Eddie rolls his eyes as he dumps the third cup of baking soda into the makeshift bath. “You wish, Hansel.”

“How is this not weird for you?”

“Buck, I’ve single-handedly given Christopher baths for the last four years of his life. I think I can handle this.”

Pouring one more cup into the mix, Eddie stands and proclaims with the clap of his hands, “Okay, I’ll see you in fifteen.”

“Whoa whoa, what?” Buck says, stopping Eddie just short of the door. “Where are you going?”

“Buck, I think you can handle fifteen minutes submerged in a waist-high tub of water,” Eddie laughs. “Remember what you said? It’s a one-man Jacuzzi… minus the jets. And the view.”

Now’s his chance. What more dignity does he have to lose?

“I’d argue I have a pretty nice view.”

It takes a moment—long enough for Buck to mentally prepare his eulogy to his friendship with Eddie and his quality time with Christopher—but once that moment passes, it’s filled with Eddie’s abundant white smile that stretches his five-o-clock shadow like a starry galaxy after a second Big Bang.

Maybe Eddie is his new beginning.

“Stare any longer, Evan, and you’ll be paying rent.”

Or maybe—just maybe, Buck thinks as he pulls up a chair next to the tub—Eddie’s been his perfect ending all along.


End file.
